


The Remaking of Life

by punk_rock_yuppie



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies), Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Bit of character introspection, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Pre-Slash, Spock has Feelings(TM), canon character death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-02
Updated: 2017-01-02
Packaged: 2018-09-14 04:07:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9160657
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/punk_rock_yuppie/pseuds/punk_rock_yuppie
Summary: "Death is not the greatest loss in life. The greatest loss is what dies inside us while we live."-Norman CousinsLeonard comes to comfort Spock.





	

**Author's Note:**

> i have SO MANY FEELINGS about how spock must've felt when spock prime died. i imagine it's the same as when vulcan was destroyed. what i didn't get to elaborate on in here is the sense spock has of losing himself--he's essentially died, how would that fuck with his head? maybe at some point i'll write a companion piece exploring that portion. for now, have some gratuitous headcanons of mine in regards to st:b & nimoy's passing.

Spock doesn’t object when Leonard takes him by the arm and drags him from the mess hall without a word. He stiffens, briefly, and meets Jim’s gaze just long enough to nod reassuringly, but otherwise allows the doctor to pull him away. His token curious look when they finally stop inside the turbolift goes entirely ignored by his companion. Spock shifts tactics and looks at Leonard’s long fingers still tight around his bicep.

Leonard pinks across the cheeks and his grip loosens by a fraction, but he doesn’t remove his touch entirely. “We’re gonna have a talk, hobgoblin.” He doesn’t look at Spock while he speaks, but Spock watches his partner closely. They haven’t had much time to interact since reembarking on their mission; as always, things fell fast and hard into madness, and in truth Spock is grateful for a moment like this. Though something simmers uncertainly in the back of his mind that the upcoming conversation will be far from relaxing.

When the lift stops on the appropriate floor, again Spock allows Leonard to pull him along. Their pace is hurried and harried, and Spock ponders the usefulness of advising they take a more casual approach. By the time he finally decides it would ultimately be lost on Leonard, they’re at Spock’s personal quarters as it is.

Spock leans around his companion to key in the entry code, once more relinquishing control to Leonard while being dragged into his room.

“Sit, Spock.” Leonard finally releases his grip only to shove Spock lightly toward the couch deep in the room. “I’ll make some tea. Sit,” he says again when Spock hesitates. Leonard stays stock still until Spock finally moves toward the couch.

Not long later, Leonard returns with two cups in his hands as promised. He passes one to Spock, and the Spock isn’t sure why he’s so surprised Leonard knows how he takes his tea. He doesn’t comment on it, though, only begins to sip at the soothing warmth.

Leonard mimics him until both their cups are less than half full. Then, he speaks. “Spit it out, Spock.”

Spock only raises an eyebrow. He reluctantly sets his cup aside but doesn’t reply.

“C’mon, you’ve been off for months now. Just ‘cause you’ve been cleared for duty doesn’t mean you’re gettin’ off scott-free from me.”

Spock tilts his head curiously, this time, and fights back a grin. “I still am not sure I understand what you mean, Doctor.”

“Spock,” Leonard’s voice soothes into silk, no longer rough or demanding but instead delicate and soft. He reaches out and clasps a hand carefully on Spock’s shoulder. “How are you feeling?”

“I am functioning well enough, Leonard,” Spock responds. It’s the truth; being back on the ship is a good feeling, akin to the comfort of home. “My wound has healed and I am not experiencing any pain… thanks to you.” It’s perhaps a bit underhanded, but Spock knows the Terran saying—flattery will get one everywhere, or so they say.

Leonard chuckles wryly under his breath and squeezes Spock’s shoulder again. “Did you talk to someone after Ambassador Spock died?”

Spock startles and can’t be bothered to reign in the surprised look he shoots at his partner. “Leonard?”

Only a sigh answers him at first. “Spock, I may be just a country doctor, but you shouldn’t just quietly suffer through your family dying. And that’s what he was,” Leonard hurries to add. “Ambassador Spock was family to you, albeit in a strange way. I’ve seen you lose people—I can’t imagine how it feels to lose yourself.”

Spock lets his gaze slide away from Leonard’s. Instead, Spock stares at his hands linked in his lap, idly entertains the thought of twiddling his thumbs for the sake of something to do. He puts the notion aside and contemplates his next words. In the time it takes him to come up with a response, Leonard has taken it upon himself to start speaking again.

“Not saying you have to talk to _me_ , Spock,” Leonard concedes. “Though I am an open ear if you need it.” He regards Spock with a look the Vulcan can’t decipher. “But if you would rather speak with M’Benga about it, or someone off-planet, I can make some calls.” It’s clear that as the words tumble from his mouth, the doctor’s brain goes into overdrive thinking of other options to offer the first officer.

Spock lets Leonard fret for a moment, amused by the blend of determination and care rolling off the other in waves.

“Leonard.” Spock speaks over him; he even goes so far as to reach out and lay a hand over Leonard’s wrist, skin-to-skin contact interrupted by the doctor’s blue tunic. “I would not mind speaking with you on the matter.”

Leonard’s chattering ends abruptly. “Yeah?” He breathes. “That’s good—real good, Spock.” He clears his throat and seems to struggle with his next words. “Can we do it now?” He asks, barreling on with a reason why before Spock can answer. “I’ve been concerned, Spock, genuinely. So has Jim. The sooner we can address this, the sooner you’ll feel better, we all will.”

Spock nods. “Very well.” He withdraws his hand from Leonard’s wrist and shrinks away from the other a bit. He sorts through his thoughts and the feelings that have been churning inside him for several months now. After a few deep, even breathes, Spock begins to speak.

“I knew it the moment it happened, although at the time I did not fully realize what had happened. I woke suddenly, flooded with feelings of…” Spock draws his eyebrows together as he ponders. “Too much, and so little, all at once. I was overwhelmed with a sensation I was not able to immediately identify, though it strongly felt as though I was being pulled out to a treacherous sea. Simultaneously, I experienced a distinct void, in my heart and a small part of my mind.”

Spock pauses to breath. He doesn’t look at Leonard, but can feel the heavy brown eyes on him.

“In my heart, it was not dissimilar from being stabbed, or shot.” Spock moves a hand to cover his right side, and lets his own heartbeat keep him grounded. “It was sharp and burning, acidic. Distracting, more than anything. I believe that bizarre pain is a key part in what prevented me from truly understanding what had happened.”

“You felt him die,” Leonard whispers. His eyes are wide and shining with tears to be shed. His hand curled around Spock’s shoulder slides down until their hands nearly brush. Leonard settles for gripping Spock’s wrist instead, again the sleeve of a tunic separating them. The warm weight is a comfort. Spock carries on speaking.

“In the back of my mind, I could feel it. It was akin to how I felt when my mother died, when Vulcan was destroyed. It was a smaller gap, certainly, but the same sort of emptiness. As though a chunk had been carved out and a hole left in its place,” Spock adds. The gap throbs, now, the universal connection to his alternate self still stinging like a phantom limb.

“I didn’t realize…” Leonard looks distraught, but motions for Spock to continue.

“When we arrived at Yorktown, it all became clear. Once left alone I realized what I had felt, and I confess… I did not know what to do. Pain struck me, it was the moment all over again but this time with unsettling clarity.” Spock’s throat tightens and his lungs burn, panic bubbling in his chest until he forces it to subside.

“Spock.”

“I have spent many hours contemplating what his death meant for me, what it still means for me. I have not come to an entirely satisfactory conclusion, other than what It told you during our time on Altamid.” Spock finally looks up, looks to Leonard. “I wish to live my life as he did, in his memory.”

Leonard nods while blinking rapidly. “I’m glad you’re doing that here,” he admits quietly.

“I am as well, Leonard. It is what he would have wanted, I am sure.” Spock allows a small smile, and makes sure Leonard catches the uptick of his lips. “It still aches, often, just as the ache of losing my mother never quite dissipates. I have come to accept it, and hope it can only make me stronger.”

Leonard moves closer on the couch until their sides are practically pressed together. His hand, still locked lightly around Spock’s wrist, clenches briefly. “Thank you for telling me, Spock.”

The Vulcan nods. “It is good to have the weight off my chest. Thank you for listening, Leonard.”

“Any time,” Leonard replies quickly.

Spock’s body warms with amusement, appreciation. His heart aches, again, but it isn’t crippling. A minor pain amidst far more feelings of contentedness. “Perhaps…” He twists his lips around the words, wondering where the line falls between too forward and too subtle. “Perhaps we might get together once a week, or so, for such discussions.”

Leonard looks surprised by the suggestion, but he nods almost immediately. “Yes, Spock, I’d—that’s a good idea.”

Spock ducks his head to hide his wider smile. “Very well.” He looks up again and tilts his head at Leonard, studying him. “There are many stories my counterpart shared with me, ones he felt would not be detrimental to this timeline. I believe you would get enjoyment out of them, as well.”

The surprise settles, shifts to a gentle pleasantness. “I’d like that,” he replies. His hand slides from Spock’s wrist as Leonard stands. “I ought to go, call it a night for now.” He starts to turn toward the door again but pauses. “If you need anything, don’t hesitate to comm me, alright?”

Spock nods obediently. “I will, Leonard.”

Again, he hesitates. Leonard looks down at Spock and their gaze holds for longer than probably necessary. After an extended silence, the doctor finally nods in a definitive manner. He doesn’t say good night, or goodbye. He nods and then turns on his heel and leaves; despite the seemingly impersonal end to the conversation, Spock is left feeling warmer than before—and he notes a distinct bounce in his companion’s step that was lacking previously as well.


End file.
